


the carriage held but just ourselves

by Writeous



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Dialogue Heavy, Established Relationship, F/M, Heroes of Olympus rewrite, Immortality, Mentions of Suicide, Percy Annabeth and Jason are older than the rest of the seven, Percy has the Achilles' Curse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 10:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19972879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writeous/pseuds/Writeous
Summary: The official story is this: Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, just two months shy of their seventh wedding anniversary, hurtle off a cliff on a lonely mountain road. A tragic accident, a sharp turn taken too quickly. Their 2023 Prius was found buried under debris, three hundred feet below where witnesses claim they fell. Paramedics declared them dead upon arrival, suffering blunt force trauma as their car collapsed with them inside.The real story is this: Percy and Annabeth watch as Hecate’s children create perfect duplicates of them that are promptly hurled off a cliff. Percy loved that Prius.(Or: at the end of the Titan War, Zeus offered Percy immortality. Percy was mistaken in thinking it was an actual choice.)





	the carriage held but just ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> A bit different in style and subject than what I usually write. Choppy, simple, quick, and a bit sad.

Three days after Percy’s 20th birthday, Chiron summons him and Annabeth to the Big House. 

Percy exchanges an exasperated glance with Annabeth as the satyr nervously hovers by the Poseidon table. Annabeth’s leg is slung casually on the concrete bench, foot barely touching Percy’s thigh even as she leans over it to snag food from Percy's dinner plate. They’ve hardly gotten any time alone for the past few days, but Chiron would never ask for them without a reason.

He sits them down on the couch once they’ve arrived, the faded burgundy one that threatens to engulf you the moment you touch it, and gives them a look that’s close to pity, close to joy, close to some emotion Percy can’t name.

Without preamble, he tells them, “You’re immortal.”

Pin drop silence.

Annabeth is the first to recover. “What?” Neither of them accuse Chiron of joking, because he’s never been one to do so, but the idea is so ridiculous, so absolutely unexpected that neither can find they can believe him. 

Chiron grimaces. “Conditionally immortal,” he amends, as if that makes it any better. It doesn't.

“So many people have died!” Percy says, a sudden wave of anger rising in his chest and crashing against his ribs. He wants to stand, to confront his mentor, but finds himself frozen to his seat, like he's facing his first monster all over again. Annabeth stiffens next to him, and he forces a rattling breath in a meager and largely unsuccessful way to calm himself. “We can’t just be immortal! Besides, shouldn’t we have known about it by now?” 

Chiron smooths the blanket over his lap unnecessarily. Percy doesn’t know why he even bothered to present as human to meet with them. He hasn’t seen Chiron use the wheelchair in years. “We tend not to tell demigods until they reach twenty years of age. Before that, the information is,” he pauses, weighing his words, “a burden. It’s only in later years that it may become a problem, and by that time-“

“They’ve died,” Annabeth says, face blank. 

Chiron nods. “Yes. Forgive my comparison, but it’s not unlike monsters. The only way for you to die is by being killed. And unfortunately, the number of demigods to survive beyond their teenage years are few.”

“Are we just going to keep aging, then?” Annabeth asks. “We’ve been getting older!” Her hand finds Percy’s, and she squeezes, hard.

“To a point,” Chiron says. “You’ll age until you’ve reached your peak physical condition before stopping.”

“The gods want us to always be ready to do their dirty work,” Percy says. Chiron tactfully does not react to the bitter edge of his voice, but inclines his head in agreement. 

“How long?” Annabeth demands. “How long do we have?”

How long to live their lives in the mortal world before having to leave, in order to forgo suspicion?

“Mid to late twenties, I’ve found,” Chiron says. “However, there haven’t been many that live to much longer. The oldest demigod I’ve ever seen only lived to one hundred and thirty-eight. Physically, one could say that she was twenty-seven.”

Percy’s throat closes up, and Annabeth puts her free hand over her mouth. Chiron looks sympathetic, at least. “I only wish that you would live as long, but regardless, I am sorry. I know that the news may be ... unpleasant, to some.”

Later, Annabeth leans into Percy’s side. The cool night air brushes at their hair, the sea calm before them as it recedes against the shore. The world is quiet, as if they’re the only two on earth. “No peaceful deaths for us, then.”

Percy shakes his head. “Never,” and for some reason, it sounds like a promise. 

* * *

Percy always expected to die fighting monsters. He didn’t know it would be an inevitability. 

* * *

Sally doesn’t cry when Percy tells her. She nods instead, determined, but hugs him tighter than she has in years. There are wrinkles on her face, gentle signs of aging. Percy will never get those. 

He looks at Estelle, two years old and oblivious of Percy’s world. He wonders if he’ll outlive her. 

* * *

“I turned down immortality.”

Poseidon meets Percy’s eyes steadily. Impassive. After hundreds of thousands of years, the idea of living forever doesn’t faze him. “You did. You turned down the ability to truly live forever, untouched, unkillable. Immeasurable power. Worshipped by mortals.”

“I didn’t want to outlive everyone.”

His father shrugs as the waves crash against the beach. “You forget: you might not. Many demigods do not.”

“Is this you trying to comfort me?”

“You did say that you didn’t want to outlive your loved ones. Your situation is rare. And, at least, you can survive with others, the ones you’re close with. Athena’s daughter.”

“How many decades will it take for you to approve our relationship?”

“Much longer than decades, I can assure you.”

* * *

Four years later, Percy and Annabeth get married. It’s a large affair, with more guests than Percy knows what to do with. There are dozens of demigods there, along with Chiron, satyrs, and a few particularly brave nymphs who strayed from their trees. The wedding takes place away from camp, so their mortal families can attend. 

The only reason it’s not crashed by monsters is by some particularly clever magic by the children of Hecate and a handful of Artemis’ hunters. Percy could swear he saw a few gods and goddesses hovering at the fringes of the wedding tent as well, but they disappear before he can get a closer look. Grover, the best man, claps Percy’s shoulder with a grin. He still wears the same red rasta cap from the day Percy met him. 

It’s a celebration, but Percy can feel the tangible loss in the air, hanging above the wedding party and souring the well-wishes. He can only imagine the mischief Travis would get up to if he was still around to pull pranks with Connor, or the drunken speech that Clarisse would give. So many others that can’t be here, even though they should. 

Annabeth and Percy still look their age. They sign their wedding certificates in their own names. They wonder if they’ll survive long enough to have to one day do it again, with different identities, different lives. 

* * *

Annabeth works her way up through a respected architectural firm, graduated early and flaunting her talent. She needs to get as much done as she can. She wonders if she would feel so harried if she still thought there was a chance that she could die a natural death. 

It was an impossible wish to begin with, she tells herself. 

* * *

The official story is this: Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase, just two months shy of their seventh wedding anniversary, hurtle off a cliff on a lonely mountain road. A tragic accident, a sharp turn taken too quickly. Their 2023 Prius was found buried under debris, three hundred feet below where witnesses claim they fell. Paramedics declared them dead upon arrival, suffering blunt force trauma as their car collapsed with them inside. 

Their joint funeral is private, attended only by family and close friends. They are buried next to each other in matching graves. The attendees cry at their lives cut tragically short, stopped before they could really begin. Sally Jackson and Frederick Chase hold hands, tears streaming down their faces as they mourn for their children. 13 year old Estelle stands too close to their graves, her father’s hand on her shoulder. Paul leans down to whisper something to her, and she nods jerkily before allowing herself to be led away. 

The real story is this: Percy and Annabeth watch as Hecate’s children create perfect duplicates of them that are promptly hurled off a cliff. Percy loved that Prius. 

They get drunk on the forbidden whiskey that they had stashed in the Poseidon cabin weeks before. They wait three weeks to discreetly reach out to their families again. Estelle doesn’t let go of her brother for a long time. 

* * *

“How did you do it?” Annabeth asks Thalia. It’s the first time the two of them have been alone for a very long time. Thalia is reclining back on her elbows, legs splayed in front of her, completely unaffected by the cool marble floor of Zeus' Cabin. Annabeth is not so lucky: she finds herself wracked with shivers as she lays down next to her. “Choose to become immortal, I mean. Leave everyone behind.”

Thalia shrugs. She still looks so young, just a day before her sixteenth birthday, but her electric blue eyes still make Annabeth feel as small as the day they’d met. “It was easy. There weren’t a lot of people left for me here. Artemis, becoming one of her hunters, gave me purpose, more than I ever would have felt if I stayed.” Her headpiece gleams in the moonlight, her own silver aura a makeshift light in the darkness. “I didn’t know that I may have been here forever even if I hadn’t, but I always would have made the choice, I think.”

Annabeth traces her finger on the tiles absentmindedly. “I don’t know what I'd do if I live that long, enough to see everyone die around me.”

Thalia pokes at Annabeth’s side. “Hey, you’ll still have me, remember? Grover too, and Percy. You could hang out with Chiron for eternity, doesn’t that sound nice?” A pause. “You’re not alone in this, Annabeth. It may be hard to accept, but it’s the same as it would be if you weren’t immortal. People die, outlive each other, whatever. You’ll be okay.”

Annabeth closes her eyes tightly and balls her fists. “Okay,” she says, and Thalia doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t say anything more, either.

* * *

Percy gets a PhD in marine biology, because why not? He’s already completed all of the requirements and has the work experience, with the paperwork forged to prove it. He gets a job with a local aquarium, rehabilitating the animals and sending them back to the sea. His fellow employees call him “Logan” and resolutely do not point out the way fish seem to follow him on the public tours, as if rapt with attention. He dies unexpectedly three years later, in a tragic freak accident. 

* * *

Steadily, Annabeth has been repairing Olympus, still damaged from the Titan War. She rests her head on Percy’s shoulder as she surveys the blueprints for yet another golden temple, requested by a minor god with too much time on their hands. There’s a frown on her face, and Percy’s known her for long enough to tell when something’s bothering her. He nudges her, and she looks up, startled. Her gray eyes stand out against her dyed black hair, styled in a pixie cut. 

She looks beautiful as always, but it doesn’t suit her. Percy misses running his hands through her princess curls. 

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” he asks, and she blinks, as if coming back to reality. 

She runs her hand over her drawings. The tips of her fingers barely smudge the pencil marks. 

“I was thinking that we could find a way to expand Camp Half-Blood to accommodate all of the aging demigods.” She lets out a huff of air, glancing around their ratty apartment. It’s their second one in a decade - their makeup skills barely hide the fact that they permanently look in their late twenties. Three lifetimes so far, and Rachel still has yet to get them to master the right way to contour their faces to look years younger without coming off as a Sephora model or how to give themselves consistent wrinkles. “It’ll be better than this. Won’t be constantly on guard. We can have something more permanent.”

The risk of monsters is one that comes often. With Annabeth’s experience, as well as Percy’s curse of Achilles - almost two decades old, now, strong as it has always been - they’re hardier than most. Demigods have begun to live longer after the end of the Titan War, but there have been too many instances to count where someone older than they look left camp to attempt to create a new life and never returned. 

Annabeth flips her notebook to a new page and begins to sketch. Percy leans away to give her space. She quickly draws an outline of Camp Half-Blood, and circles an empty area between the stables and forest. “I know Chiron had been planning to make this into another strawberry lot, but I think it may be enough space to fit apartments, maybe some leisure spaces and shops too, if we really squeeze it in.” She smirks. “We’ll call it New Athens.”

“What, Baby Olympus doesn’t have the same ring to it?”

“Nope. The gods don’t get this one. This one’s for us.”

He kisses her temple. “It’s going to be amazing.”

* * *

Estelle gets married on a bright summer’s day. Percy and Annabeth come to the wedding, loitering on the fringes so as not to raise suspicion amongst the particularly nosey guests. Her wife greets them nervously - it’s the first time they’ve met, but Julienne has heard of them before. “The Greek gods are real and my not really dead brother is related to one of them” was not the kind of revelation to drop on the honeymoon.

Percy regrets that he’s never been able to give her the shovel talk, but c’est la vie. Julienne adores Estelle, which is all he can really ask for. 

* * *

Achilles’ blessing makes Percy impervious to all blades. If he were ever to get cut, he sometimes wonders if he would bleed gold instead of red. 

* * *

Percy and Estelle stroll along the frozen waterside of Central Park. Walking along the winding paths in their heavy winter coats, they could be any pair of young adults.

“I’m thinking ‘Perseus,’” Estelle says, splaying her gloved hands in front of them as if framing an invisible photo. She knocks her shoulder against Percy’s bicep good-naturedly - she took after their mom’s short stature, and at the age of twenty-four, still easily passes as his younger sister. It won’t last long. “Or ‘Annabeth,’ if it’s a girl,” she continues.

“It’s a bit morbid to name your child after your dead brother and sister-in-law,” Percy tells her, all too serious. 

She swats at him with a huff. “It’s a memorial!” Estelle puts the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically. “For my lost loved ones, who I never see because they never come to visit!”

Percy laughs, clear in the crisp winter air. It’s been a long time since he’s been in Manhattan - there’s too many eyes, not all of them human. Still, it’s nice to be home. “Alright, alright! But honestly, ‘Perseus’ is a horrible name. Only one way to shorten it, have to deal with people mispronouncing it your whole life. Don’t saddle a kid with that, believe me.” A pause. “Annabeth’s good, though. That’s, like, an actual, real, proper name. You could actually separate it into ‘Anna’ and ‘Beth’ too - make it both a first and middle name - which would annoy Annabeth to pieces but would probably make her cry real tears of joy the moment you left.”

“‘Perseus’ was good enough for Mom!” Estelle argues.

 _She only named me Perseus because he was the only hero with a happy ending,_ he wants to say. Instead: “She just went super hard into the Greek aesthetic. Please don’t name someone for the aesthetic, Estelle, I’m begging you.” He snaps his fingers, or tries to, anyway. The thick fabric of his gloves muffle the sound. “If you really want to honor your brother, name him Richard. It’s my middle name. Also Mom’s uncle, the one who raised her. Two for one deal!”

“Your middle name is Richard?”

“Yep. It’s on my tombstone and everything. You’ve never seen it?”

Estelle grins. “You think too highly of yourself if you think I’ve ever visited your grave.”

A mock gasp. “You’re saying that our graves are just withering away? Flower-less and lonely? With no one to pay them respects?”

“No. Mom still visits them. Weekly.”

That stops Percy in his tracks. “She does? I didn’t know that.”

Estelle shrugs, uncomfortable. “I mean, yeah? For appearances or something? I’ve never really asked why.”

“I - oh,” and the news that his mother visits his own grave should not be a surprise, but for some reason it is.

“How’s Annabeth?” Estelle says after a while, desperate to steer them onto a more light-hearted topic. 

“Started building New Athens,” Percy replies easily. He’ll deal with the fact that his mom mourns at his empty grave even though she knows he’s not actually dead later. Gods, he really should go visit her soon. “The Hephaestus kids are going wild over all the designs, keep suggesting improvements. Driving Annabeth mad.” He goes into more detail about the specifics. He got a degree in architecture in Wisconsin six years ago to understand Annabeth’s life-long passion, but he still has trouble keeping up with her. He always has. 

Estelle loops her arm in his as they walk. Percy never takes his hand out of his pocket, lightly running his fingers along Riptide’s casing as they go. 

* * *

Percy disappears from his and Annabeth’s new apartment in Camp Half-Blood. Three days later, after a whirl-wind of panic and dread, Annabeth dreams of a man with one shoe.

* * *

Jason wakes up on a bus. 

“Wakes up” is a strong term. He doesn’t remember falling asleep. Then again, he doesn’t remember anything. 

A boy in the seat behind him is chattering excitedly - Latino, wearing a school uniform. The girl sitting beside the boy rolls her eyes, blue and green and brown all at once, as if used to his antics. Jason tunes them both out, even as they talk in his direction, taking stock of his situation with a militant familiarity he can’t place. 

He’s one of the oldest on the bus full of rowdy school children by what seems a good decade, save for the bus driver and the man in the opposite seat. He glares at Jason with open suspicion. Jason feels his hackles rise but pointedly slides his gaze away. The man is wearing a coach’s uniform, complete with a headband and whistle. If he’s going to attack Jason, he won’t do it in front of so many witnesses. 

Jason blinks, bewildered. Where had that thought come from?

There’s a large tote bag next to Jason, and when he opens it, he finds worksheets and pencils, along with various water bottles and wrapped sandwiches. There’s a plastic badge on his chest, and he unclips it to examine it better. Beside a picture of himself, it reads, “Wilderness School. Mr. Jason Grace: Physics Professor.” Stuck beneath is a peeling sticker that says “CHAPERONE.”

Jason doesn’t know anything about a Wilderness School. He doesn’t know anything about physics. Other than his name, he doesn’t know anything at all. 

“Mr. Grace,” the girl behind him whines, and his gaze snaps to her, razor-sharp. “Please make Leo shut up. _Please,_ Jason, I’m begging you. Slap him with a detention. Something. Anything.”

The boy’s - Leo - mouth falls open. “How dare you?” Leo says accusingly. “Piper’s just jealous that I could build this while she was busy staring out the window forlornly.” He shakes the DualShock controller in his hands, and a small drone zips in front of his face, fashioned from a small engine and a shocking amount of paper clips. Piper has to press herself against the window to avoid its makeshift wings. 

Jason’s pretty sure students didn’t talk to teachers like that. But they speak to him with an easy familiarity, as if they’re used to this sort of banter. Gods, are his only friends teenagers? That’s sad. 

Gods?

The bus grinds to a halt, saving him from answering. Jason follows the coach’s instructions mechanically, not daring to bring up his apparent amnesia. He’s not safe here. Not that he knows where here is. 

It’s hard to break away from the group, seeing as Leo and Piper seem determined to stay glued to his side. Jason can see that they’ve become bothered by his noncommittal answers, as if they’re used to expecting more. 

Tough luck. He doesn’t know anything about the Grand Canyon. The dry air makes him uncomfortable, like there’s something lurking nearby that he can’t see. 

Eventually, the coach manages to corner him, shooing the kids away to the rest of their classmates. He’d essentially shoved Jason against the wall, out of sight of the others. It would be more intimidating if he wasn’t a foot and a half shorter.

The coach - Hedge, his badge says - growls up at him. “Who are you, and why are you here, now? I’ve never seen you before. The Mist, it’s been hiding you, hasn’t it?”

“The Mist” makes Jason’s chest tug with familiarity. Something to latch on to: the first thing he’s recognized so far. He doesn’t know what it means, but he’s grateful for the lifeline. This man has answers. Too bad Jason doesn’t trust him. 

“I’m sorry, Coach Hedge,” Jason says innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. What’s the Mist?”

Hedge growls, but before he can grill Jason further, screams erupt from the students. Two wind creatures have risen from the canyon, currents strong enough to push the students against the railing. Piper claws at the glass barrier uselessly before plummeting off the edge. 

The wind spirits - venti, Jason’s mind supplies, which sounds right but is completely irrelevant - shoot a bolt of lightning at him as he runs to the ledge. It should be enough to kill twenty men, but it only succeeds in blowing off Jason’s shoe. He dives after Piper, and then he’s flying. 

It’s only later, when Jason’s killed the spirits with nothing but a gold coin and all but him, Hedge, Piper, and Leo have scattered, does a chariot swoop down from the sky, commandeered by a heavily muscled teenager and a woman around Jason’s age. Her hair barely touches her shoulders, dyed a faded brown. She hasn’t touched up her roots in days, and her natural blonde hair is showing through, unruly and curled. Her gray eyes pierce Jason, scanning him with frustration. 

“Where’s Percy?” she demands, and the next thing they know, they’re all crowded onto the flying chariot, heading to a place called Camp Half-Blood. The woman - Annabeth, she’d introduced herself tersely - seems tense at their presence. She keeps looking over at Jason suspiciously. 

Everything about the situation makes Jason’s skin crawl, like he’s in forbidden territory. He shouldn’t be here, he knows it, deep down. 

He has nowhere else to go. There is nowhere else to go. 

* * *

New Athens makes Jason’s chest feels warm in a way that it hasn’t felt since this whole mess began. It’s still being built - but it will be grand, he knows, from the framework already made. He’s alone with Annabeth, and while he knows she didn’t drag him out here to admire her architecture, he can’t help but be. 

“Have you thought about adding a gate?” he asks her. It feels right, almost. New Athens reminds him a lot of something that he can’t quite grasp. 

“I - no, I haven’t. Camp Half-Blood is already protected from monsters.”

“No, I mean, closing it off from the rest of the camp. It’ll allow everyone living here to have some form of privacy, I think. A way to distance themselves from everything.”

Annabeth hums thoughtfully. “That’s an interesting idea. Creating the allusion that you’re retiring, almost.” She frowns. “Could be dangerous. The only people we allow to go on quests now are the ones who would be living here. By having it be open, we're sending the message that we’re still accessible.”

“You don’t let younger campers go on quests? You train them as if you do.”

“The only reason we train them is to keep them safe.” Her eyes are stormy when she looks at him; he meets her gaze steadily. “How old are you, Jason? Really.”

He looks younger than he feels. Maybe he’s just mature for his age? That doesn’t seem right, either. “Not twenty-five,” he settles on. 

The horn for dinner rings, and Annabeth breathes deeply. “We should get back to the others. Chiron will want to talk to you more before dark.”

Jason's gaze flicks down to her left hand, where she had been absentmindedly spinning a gold band on her finger as they had spoke. He’s not entirely sure why he says it, but, “I’m sorry about your husband.”

“It’s not your fault. I was harsh, earlier. Percy can take care of himself, but you’re here for a reason. We just need to find out why, for all of our sakes.”

* * *

The woman named Rachel’s eyes shine green as she says a prophecy in front of the nightly bonfire. There’s no doubt who it’s about, but protests arise anyway. 

“They’re just kids,” Will says to Chiron, not bothering to lower his voice. 

Beside him, Annabeth nods vehemently. “They just got here. They barely know anything! They’re too young for this!”

Leo agrees whole-heartedly, but he resents being talked down to, as if he’s not even here. Jason fidgets uncomfortably between him and Piper. Before, Leo would expect him to lay a hand on his shoulder, a gentle way to hold him back before Leo did anything stupid. Jason doesn’t do that now. 

“Hey!” Leo snaps. “We’re perfectly capable! Besides, you’re barely older than we are!”

Annabeth glares at him, and Leo barely resists the instinct to shrink back. “I’m fifty-seven,” she says.

Leo doesn’t miss a beat. “Wow,” he deadpans, “you don’t look a day over fifty-six.”

She grits her teeth but turns to hear Katie say, “Please, Chiron, you swore that you would do everything you could to stop kids from going on quests!”

Chiron looks regretful, at least. “I know what I said, and I meant it. But the prophecy is clearly referring to Piper, Leo, and Jason.”

“He’s right,” Rachel pipes up. Leo jumps - without the smoke and light show, he’d forgotten she was there. “Trying to avoid prophecies only ends in destruction. You all know that better than anyone.”

All of the younger campers turn towards their elders, watching them with wide eyes. It’s not often that they see their mentors get as heated as they are now. They move their heads as the argument bounces, like the fatal disagreement is nothing but an extremely intense match of tennis.

Annabeth runs a hand through her hair. “Fine,” she says. The rest of the older campers exchange concerned looks but concede to her. 

Chiron nods solemnly. “Leo, Piper, Jason, please come with me. We have preparations to be made before tomorrow.”

* * *

Before Jason gets on Leo’s metal dragon - a metal dragon! - Annabeth catches his arm. “Keep them safe,” she tells him. 

“Of course,” he says. “See you in a week, then.”

He takes off with Piper and Leo, and the next time they see her, it’s to tell her about the Roman camp and the plans to build a boat. 

* * *

The first thing Hazel thinks when she sees the attractive young man with an old woman on his back running towards them is: _he’s a Roman god, here to test us._

The second thing Hazel thinks when she notices the two gorgons swooping above him is: _the test is to see if we can survive the next five minutes_

She and Frank break protocol to hasten the duo into Camp Jupiter, the gorgons not a second behind. Then, the man obliterates the gorgons using the sacred river water, leaving only two vials behind that she spots Frank picking up, discreet as can be. The lady transforms into Juno - _the goddess Juno_ \- and tells the man something that sounds like encouragement but feels more like a threat, before vanishing off to wherever she’d come from. He runs a hand through his dark hair, agitated. 

Reyna is the first to push through to speak to him. 19, one of the oldest from the cohorts, and full of an earned confidence that Hazel usually only sees from the retired demigods. 

“Who are you?” she demands, no nonsense. She’s on edge, like she has been ever since Jason disappeared. Octavian as the new praetor had only added to her stress. She tries hard not to show it, but Hazel’s nothing if not good at picking up on other’s emotions. 

“My name is Percy Jackson,” Percy Jackson says. “Sorry about all that.” He gestures vaguely in the direction of the river, as if a sudden gorgon attack was only a minor inconvenience. “Uh, Lupa sent me here.”

Reyna’s expression goes blank, emotionless. “I need to talk to you, in private.” She leaves no room for argument and whisks away, an exhausted Percy in tow. Octavian glowers at their backs but storms off to the temples, no doubt ready to predict some horrible fate for the newcomer. 

Reyna and Percy’s “conversation” - it’s more of an interrogation, really, and Percy really does not want to deal with this after everything he went through the last couple of months - goes a little like this:

“Why are you here?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where did you come from?”

“I don’t know”

“Do you know what happened to Jason Grace?”

“Who?”

“How old are you?”

“Old enough to know that this is isn’t exactly out of the norm, I guess.”

Reyna frowns at that. “It’s unorthodox to accept someone as old as you,” a critical eye, “however old you are, into the barracks. Most people retire after they stop aging.”

That sounds familiar, if not vaguely troubling, but Percy doesn’t interrupt. Reyna seems like she’s barely holding it together as is. Asking questions feels a bit rude. 

“But you came directly from Lupa, accompanied by a goddess. Then you controlled the river, too. I’ll have to talk it over with Octavian, but I think we would make an exception for you.”

“You don’t like him very much, do you?” Percy asks. He’d seen the way the guy had stormed off, sneered at Reyna’s display. “Is he trying to undermine you in front of the others or something?”

Reyna brings a hand to forehead and sighs. Percy can’t help but feel sorry for her. Something about her feels familiar, but he can’t place it. He barely know her. Despite that, this seems out of character.

“Yes,” she says. “It’s horrible! He weaseled his way into the praetorship after Jenna retired. Was spreading rumors that I couldn’t handle being the sole leader! And I can! I have before! He’s just making it so much harder!”

Percy feels awkward. She needs a therapist. Maybe that’s what Jason was to her. Is that what he’s supposed to be doing? He hopes not. Right now, he really wants to find a horizontal surface and sleep for a year. He’s always exhausted. Is that normal? He suspects it’s because he seems completely impervious to attacks, like he has some sort of protective barrier around him at all times. Or something like that. 

He’s so tired. 

Juno - Hera, he’d originally thought, completely unbidden - had told him that crossing the river would be the point of no return. There was a chance that he’d be signing his death sentence. Walk away, you might live. 

Cross the river, you’ll find Annabeth again. After that, it wasn’t much of a choice.

He’d thought she’d be here, somehow, but he has a horrible feeling that she isn’t. 

The conversation ends awkwardly, and Reyna all but pushes him out of her office. “Octavian’s burning auguries,” she tells him. “We’ll need to know what they say before accepting you.”

“He’s burning what?” Percy asks, but Frank and Hazel are already waiting outside, nervous escorts. 

They run into Hazel’s older brother on the way there. He seems around Percy’s age, but paler and smaller. He looks like he hasn’t slept in forever, and stares at Percy like he’s seen a ghost. Percy looks at him and thinks, without a doubt, I know you. 

Percy knows that Nico’s lying when he says they haven’t met. He goes off to meet Octavian anyway. 

And, okay, here’s the deal. It’s the twenty-first century. Being gay isn’t quite as taboo as it was when Nico was born. He’s even had a few flings with different guys he’s met over the decades, quick and impermanent, because Nico can’t really be bothered to explain the whole I’m-the-son-of-the-god-of-the-underworld-and-am-also-immortal-technically-so-this-won’t-work-out-in-the-long-run. Besides, he spends most of his time working anyway, discovering secrets and brokering deals between spirits. Death, he’s learned, is the one thing that stays the same, wherever you come from. 

All of them, the Older demigods, try and keep in touch in some way. He has a permanent residence in New Athens that he stays at the few times he’s bothered to visit. 

(Not to be confused with the permanently vacant Hades cabin, which he avoids at all costs)

He only drops in the check on the others every few years, and even then it’s brief. He hasn’t spent a meaningful amount of time with Percy since the War, actually. This has pros and cons. 

Pros: he never really had to deal with his still-present feelings for Percy. 

Cons: he never really had to deal with his still-present feelings for Percy. 

It’s embarrassing, how long he’s kept this crush. Besides, Percy’s married now. Four times! To the same person! It’s been decades, and their relationship is still on rocky terms since Nico betrayed him when they were teenagers. Unfortunately, Nico can’t seem to shake it off. 

This immortality thing was bothersome. Feelings are hard, and he still has no idea what Bianca ever saw in them. Or Hazel, for that matter. Hazel’s the same age, biologically, that Bianca was when she’d died. He’s always been too sentimental. 

“You know him, don’t you?” Hazel asks when they’re alone. She doesn’t trust easy, even the pretty stranger with a goddess on his back. Her brows are furrowed - she’s too used to being betrayed.

Nico is, unfortunately, too used to being the betrayer, but she doesn’t need to know that yet. 

“Yes,” he tells her, because no matter what, he can’t lie to her. “He’s a good guy, Hazel. You can trust him.”

“So why don’t you-?”

“It’s complicated,” Nico cuts her off. “It’s - he’s - it’s complicated. But it makes a lot of sense that he’s here. I should have expected to find him here, actually. I’m an idiot.”

He dodges the topic after that and eventually she accepts that, albeit with a scowl. 

She appears to take his word, though. She sponsors Percy when he joins the Fifth Cohort. 

* * *

Percy fights like a demon. 

Frank watches as Percy explodes the water pipes - he knew Percy was skilled when the river bent to his will and killed two gorgons in one blow - but he’s not expecting the unfamiliar fighting methods that plows over the demigods attempting to hold him away from their flag. They stab at him uselessly. 

Oh, yeah. Also, Percy can’t be injured. Swords glance off his skin without drawing blood or making bruises, and he easily brushes off attacks from seasoned demigods. So there’s that, apparently. 

The Fifth Cohort wins for the first time in ages. That’s forgotten quickly, because one of the older campers was fatally stabbed and is currently bleeding out onto the grass.

She survives, barely, but it isn’t pretty. 

* * *

Mars appears - _Mars,_ the god of war, his _dad,_ Frank feels dizzy and out of his depth - and gives Frank a quest. And Percy, too, after their honestly quite terrifying stand-off. 

The trouble starts - or continues in an even worse way, really, as trouble has been Frank’s constant companion for most of his life - at the Senate meeting following. To Frank’s despair, a lot of that trouble comes from Percy. 

What that stems from is his utter denial of Frank’s request to have Hazel as their third member. Frank winces as she slinks down in her seat, embarrassed. 

Currently, the argument is between Percy and one of the spectators, a retired demigod who Frank doesn’t know the name of. Reyna keeps trying to interrupt them, unsuccessfully. She seems frustrated at the way the other two are absorbed in each other, as if they’re purposely leaving out the campers in favor of letting “the adults talk.” The analogy is suiting. 

“I am eighty-four!” the woman says. “There are some of us that are much older! You cannot seriously expect any of us to come out of retirement for some quest!”

If her age phases Percy, he doesn’t show it. “Oh, so you’d rather a _child_ go on it instead?”

“Yes, obviously! Why do you think they are trained so hard?”

“So that they’ll survive as long as we have! Gods, what is wrong with all of you? You’d rather let kids die so you could keep sitting around drinking mai tais for eternity!”

“Perseus Jackson!” Reyna snaps, and the use of his full name effectively shuts them both up. “You’ve barely been at this camp for two days; you have absolutely no right to question our methods!”

“But-“

“Furthermore, not only is Frank the leader of this quest, Hazel is your sponsor. You will treat them both with respect! And no matter what anyone’s feeling on his choice, he has the final decision on who accompanies him!”

Absolute silence. The spectator looks incredibly smug.

“Am I understood?” Reyna says, finally. 

Percy’s eyes skip over to Frank and Hazel, and he does, at least, have the grace to look embarrassed. “Yes, Reyna.”

There’s an almost unanimous vote after Reyna’s outburst, with the exception of Octavian’s loyal followers, who himself seems absolutely gleeful at the turn of events. 

“Prepare for your quest,” Reyna tells them. “You’ll leave tomorrow at 9.”

* * *

Despite the awkward beginning, Percy ends up being an amazing quest mate. He respects Frank’s decisions as leader and shows nothing but respect for their capabilities, only piping up when he needs to give input. In the meantime, he brings an easy presence - an experienced demigod on the team relieves Frank. 

But no matter how valiantly they both try to end it, there’s still an unbearable tension between Percy and Hazel. 

* * *

Frank wakes to a hushed conversation. Percy and Hazel are talking to each other, softly in order to avoid waking Frank up. He pretends to stay asleep - their discussion feels private and he doesn’t want to disrupt them - but listens in anyway. Frank does feel bad for it, but the boat is too small for him to ignore them. 

“-didn’t mean it to come out that way.” That was Percy. “I’m sorry, Hazel.”

“Then why did you kick up such a fuss? I sponsored you and you made me a laughing stock! I’m not just some child!” Hazel has an accent, an old-fashioned lilt to her voice that emerges when she’s upset. Frank’s never noticed before. 

A deep breath, something like a sigh. “That was never my intention. You - you and Frank both - are completely worthy of being on this quest. You’ve proven yourself time and time again. You’re smart, resourceful, quick with a sword-“

“Then why?”

“Quests are deadly, alright? Doesn’t matter how many you go on, there’s always a chance that something will go wrong!”

“I know that!”

“It’s not that you don’t have enough experience! Being a demigod is dangerous enough, and that’s just with being in Camp Jupiter! I don’t think you should be put in more danger if we can help it! I’d rather an older demigod die on a quest than a young one!”

A pause. “You don’t know me, Percy. I can take care of myself.”

“You’re right, I don’t know you. I just,” there’s a sound, as if Percy’s shifting slightly closer, “I don’t remember a lot about my past, but I remember what it felt like to go on a quest young. I remember my friends dying around me because we all made stupid mistakes because none of us knew any better. I don’t want anything to happen to you guys, if I can help it.”

Quiet. 

“Fine. Just - just promise that you won’t be weird about it anymore.”

A startled laugh. “Absolutely promised, Hazel.” A pause, and then, “We good?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

* * *

“Nearly sixty years I’ve been on this Earth,” Percy says, eyes alight as the three of them stand on the iceberg, victorious, “and not once have I been able to turn into an animal! How is that fair?” 

Hazel laughs, giddy with relief and left-over adrenaline. Frank grins, and for a moment, there is no higher quest hanging over them, as if they exist just for this one victory. “You’re invincible and can literally create hurricanes!” Frank counters. 

Percy shrugs. “Fair enough.” He nods at the two of them as they come back to reality. There’s something in his expression like approval, as if he’s finally acknowledging them as equals. It makes Hazel wonder, again, about her original Roman god sent to test them theory. It still makes sense. 

Six hours later, after a bloody battle at Camp Jupiter and the subsequent party that follows, a ship descends from the sky. 

* * *

The first thing Annabeth tells Percy after seven months is “I missed you so much.”

There’s relief in Percy’s eyes, the familiar I-Didn’t-Know-If-I’d-Ever-See-You-Again that they feel anytime they separate. “I love you too, Annabeth.”

Their happiness does not last long, because soon, Leo is firing at the camp from the Argo and the seven of them are forced to flee to the skies. 

* * *

Piper knows that Percy, Annabeth, and Jason are not trying to exclude them. Logically, she knows they’re trying not to shut out the younger demigods. They’re all a team, first and foremost, and they have to act like it. 

Doesn’t stop the definite line from being created. From the beginning, there’s a feeling of “the adults,” and “the kids,” two absolutely separate groups. It drives Piper and Leo absolutely up the wall. Piper doesn’t know Hazel and Frank as well, but it seems to frustrate them too. They keep shooting jealous glares at Annabeth and Jason, as if they’ve shattered the tentative ground they’d gained with Percy. Piper understands the feeling. 

She knows, theoretically, that the Jason she and Leo knew from school - the young physics teacher who everyone had a crush on but would always let Piper and Leo hang around his office after hours and listened to their problems, as if they were people worth caring for - does not exist. It’s hard to remember, sometimes, that her memories are fake, implanted by an indifferent goddess seeking to form bonds between people who had never met. 

They act different, though. The Before-Jason and After. Something about this Jason feels more tangible. Their friendship - were they even friends, at first? You can’t be friends with an illusion. The only person Piper ever really knew was Leo - had to start from scratch. They had to earn each other’s trust, even though she had always been used to having it. It’s gotten better, as the months went on. The same dynamic that they had with Before-Jason is beginning to form with After-Jason. They all feel closer now, the three of them. She finally feels like she has a real family, complete with a consistently exasperated older brother. 

With Percy and Annabeth here, however, Jason has become part of the ultimate triumvirate. The older demigods, the more experienced, the ones who ask for the youngers’ suggestions and input but then subsequently forget to include them in plans. 

Later, Piper is the only one standing in the way of Percy and Jason murdering each other in a Kansas field. She banishes the Eidolons from the ship. 

The triumvirate breaks apart after that. Kids’ table and adults’ table merge. For the first time, it begins to actually feel like a quest. 

* * *

In his darker moments, Percy knows that Annabeth will most likely die before him. With Achilles’ curse, he was nearly invincible. But Annabeth didn’t have that, was still open and vulnerable to everything Percy wasn’t affected by. Experience can only take you so far. 

He wonders what he’ll do if - when - she dies. At the moment, suicide seems the most attractive of options. 

Nico’s face is ashen as he watches Percy and Annabeth dangle above Tartarus. 

Percy looks down, meets Annabeth’s gaze, terrified. Beneath her, total darkness. An empty void with no end. He doesn’t know what he’ll do without her. He can’t do this without her. 

“We’re in this together,” he says, and there are tears in her eyes, fear and relief and everything else, “always.”

He lets go of the ledge, and then the two of them are falling and falling and falling and falling. 

* * *

Later, Percy tells the stars hello. 

* * *

Many die, in the final battle. Not as many as did in the Titan War - a lifetime ago, now - but enough that the sky goes black with the smoke of burning shrouds. 

Leo was one of them. He exploded in a final act of sacrifice, as loud and dramatic as he had been in life. The remaining split up in the aftermath. Frank takes Octavian’s place as praetor, and Reyna looks more relaxed than she has in ages. Jason will follow them back to Camp Jupiter - back home, it’s been so long - but he’ll be back, he promises, to see New Athens through. 

Piper decides that she’s leaving for the year, back to school and her father. She looks small without her constant companion and fidgets under their gaze, as if unsure how to navigate the unfamiliar territory with no Leo beside her. Maybe that’s why Hazel offers to go with her. Piper grins, her eyes tight, but she tells Hazel of her plans, of the world of the future that Hazel never got to see. Hazel follows with starry eyes and rapt attention. So, maybe not. 

Nico and Will finish the flirting they started on the battlefield, because they have nothing if not bad timing. Nico’s always been a wandering spirit, but it’s lonely and cold out there and here in the light of the fire and Will’s golden smile, he can see that changing, maybe, one day. 

Percy and Annabeth stay where they are. Hours later, after everyone has dispersed, when the smell of smoke has finally cleared from the air, they could be found under the lake. Alone in their bubble, they could be the only people on Earth. 

Annabeth cards her hand through Percy’s hair as he rests his head on her shoulder, nearly boneless with exhaustion. The silence between them is thick and terrifyingly empty. Wrapped around each other in a cocoon of warmth, for the first time in nearly a year, they’re safe. 

“I can’t do this, Annabeth,” he says at last, his voice muffled against her skin. Her hair has faded back to its natural blonde and it’s begun to curl with length. Loose around her shoulders, she’s the picture of when they first met. Percy twists his hands through her hair, desperate for something tangible to hold onto. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Percy,” she says, and it’s almost like a sigh and almost like something entirely different. She feels raw and exposed, like the months of stress have finally dissipated and her body doesn’t know what to do with the extra energy. “We’re in this together. You and me. We’ll get through this together, like always.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I know.”

A very long pause. And then: “I can’t do this without you.” There’s something in Percy’s voice she’s not used to, even after decades of knowing him. He’s begging her. 

Annabeth stops stroking his hair and instead pulls back to look at him. Jostled from his position, he meets her eyes steadily. The only light is from the distant moon filtered through the water, and their faces are very close together. 

“You’ll never have to.” She kisses his forehead, soft and sad. “We’ll be together to the end.”

They don’t emerge from the lake until the sun rises.

* * *

Jason dies, a spear lodged into his back. He’s ninety-two. 

It’s easy to forget how fragile their supposed immortality is. They mourn and eventually move on. That’s how it goes. Mourn, move on, mourn, move on, over and over and over until every death feels like a familiar dance. It’s routine, now. 

Doesn’t stop it from stealing their breath away every time, a cavernous hole carving its way into their chests with every call. 

* * *

Percy gave up immortality, once. It still felt like a choice, then, young and naïve and riding on the wave of saving the world. 

He didn’t want to outlive everyone. 

He does it anyway. Sally and Paul and Estelle and all of her children. Annabeth squeezes his hand at their funerals, silent. They do not bother to mask their identities.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of becoming immortal after thinking you would never be is a huge irrational fear of mine, so I thought I would work through it via fictional characters.


End file.
